


Random Short Stories

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Child Death, Chronic Illness, Courting Rituals, Drabbles, First Kiss, First Time, Forced Abortion, Forced Bonding, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Fucked Up, Gore, Government Experimentation, Human Sacrifice, Kidnapping, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Pet Names, Possessive Behavior, Public Humiliation, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Trauma, Underage Rape/Non-con, corrupt government
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28879443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Random plots of short stories about my OCs that I don't feel like writing a whole fic about. Features characters from my previous WIP titles.Read at your own risk for it contains certain subjects viewers might be triggered by. (R4P3, Su1c1d3, abu53, etc;)
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)





	1. Memory

**Author's Note:**

> A teenager recalls the time he was left alone for once in his life when he was young.
> 
> (An unsupervised toddler gets hit by an angry older sibling.)

He used to be called a freak when he was just shy of two years old. He never cried when his father told him that their family pet had died tragically, he only laughed at the tears and pointed at something shiny on the ground. He understood the words, the meaning, but didn’t register the emotion properly.

His father understood that Syrus was a bit... slow, just nodding along with the incoherent babble of a toddler, but never stood up for him either. Because that was a Sire’s job to do. Protecting the young. 

So when Syrus was alone in the tub, left only for about 10 minutes, one of his older siblings had rounded on him. 

“Why don’t you cry?” She had demanded, hands clenched into fists and her jaw set tight. 

Syrus only beamed up at her with a half-gummy smile, holding up a palm-full of bubbly suds. And screamed when her fist slapped down on his open palm, leaving a large red mark on his ghostly skin.

She was gone by the time his father returned, and his father never questioned the redness of his palm or the bruises developing in the middle. It was just an accident, his father crooned, all he Syrus did was slip on the soapy tiles of the tub. 

...

Syrus still flinches when she makes a fist with the hand that struck him. She pretends to not notice. And he prefers it that way. His hand aches at random times and he ignores the phantom sensations. 

It was just an accident. Surely she didn’t mean to?

He would never know.


	2. Amber Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Older Sister kills her younger brother under the impression that it was the only right thing to do. In the name of their mother.
> 
> (Child sacrifice, child death, blood...you get the gist.)

She stared at her bloodstained hands, already backing away from the problem she had created.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, silent tears running down her face. “I’m so sorry.”

There was a flicker of movement then, a flicker of life. Her baby brother was suffocating in his own blood, a red trail slowly leaking out the side of his mouth. His hands were pressed firmly against the giant wound underneath his sternum, between his ribs. 

Lea got onto her knees, pressing bloody knuckles against her temple. Her eyes were screwed shut. She didn’t want to see what she had caused any longer.

Oh god, what was she going to do? If their siblings found out…

There was a cold chill of recognition at the way Syrus tried to move- tried to speak. He looked too similar to their father, who had perished under their mother’s hands. He was evading death, as their mother would say, just like their bastard of a father.

Syrus was so young, barely even passing childhood. There were still lingering traces of baby fat and innocence that could warm a killer’s heart. He would always surprise his elder siblings with his intellect and charm, leaving them intricate gifts of metal twine and molten glass at their doorsteps.

Lea willed herself to open her eyes, and she sought out the round face of the child she had been forced to sacrifice. 

His eyes were open, dazed, and unblinking. He trembled with fear, but the movement was slowly ebbing away as he began to wear out. All energy spent fighting for a life he would never have. A life he would never fully grow out of.

**_A sad reality for a lot of males, both adult, and child. Once a male’s wife no longer had a use for him, be it for procreation, manual labor or a nanny to watch children, they were killed. Like stock animals- kept in horrible conditions or treated like royalty. If only to get the best effort out of the males. And if the adult male was killed off, so were the useless male children. Only the intersex and the females were spared._ **

This was necessary. Lea told herself, Syrus was supposed to be dead, the moment he had been born. Killed off because of a freakish mutation and muscle weakness. But their father had denied the lethal injection, holding his one and only son in an arm.

Syrus would always have a permanent limp or something like that. That’s what the midwife had said when Lea had been a curious toddler and listened in on the adults after the birth.

And now he wouldn’t be able to walk again. Or talk. Or eat. Or-

A heavy hand was on her shoulder, and Lea could feel her mother’s acrylics indenting her skin.

“You did the right thing, my girl. Look! He isn’t suffering anymore. He’s in a happy place now, probably chasing butterflies or birds. Or whatever the hell he did.”

Her mother spoke of Syrus like he was an animal, and in some ways...he kinda was.

Lea was wrapped up in a warm hug, her mother sending comfort through the long unused parental bond. Her mother pressed Lea’s head under her chin, and Lea could smell the strong floral perfume that coated every inch of her mother’s skin.

**_“But why can’t I go outside? Why am I locked in here? Mommy and Daddy can afford a large place so why can’t they afford for me to go outside?”_ **

**_Lea rested a shaking hand on his shoulder, swishing dyed hair off to her side, and made eye contact with Syrus._ **

**_“Because...because you’re special. Don’t you see yourself every morning? When you get dressed and brush your teeth? You have something special about your genetics, something so special that Daddy didn’t want you to share with everyone. They would all be jealous of you!”_ **

Lea felt sick, and she knew what the cause was.

She just murdered her baby brother in cold blood. She had swung at him with the sacrificial dagger their Priest had gifted her, holding him down while she pulverized his heart. 

He just wanted to play outside for the first time in 10 years, happy to sit in the shade with his sister.

That’s what it looked like to their mother, but she- she missed the heart of purpose.

Her stomach flipped at the next thought.

She just stabbed everywhere but the heart. 

Her mother had let go now, and Lea saw the femme bodyguards begin to clean up the area. Nobody could calm her down when his body was dragged away, a bloody imprint on the ground.


	3. Hellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A demon is implied to torture a man he swore to protect.
> 
> I don't really know what this fucking is, but the first few sentences made me laugh.

“Syrus Tri Callahan, get back here this instant and go clean up your own vomit.”

“Go shove it somewhere else. Maybe your fucking harem of bitches could clean it up better.”

“Young man, I am your guardian. Much less a parent.”

“I don’t think of you as a parent. If anything, you’re just a shitty excuse of a protector who managed to let me get infected with a parasite. Which, in turn, let me develop some form of gastroenteritis. There, that’s my excuse.”

The demon spluttered in surprise before his expression turned venomous. Fine. If his charge wanted to suddenly act grown, then he’d treat his charge like so.

With just a simple flick of the wrist, their surroundings changed into a dreary cellar. Complete with chains hanging from the ceiling and a flickering lightbulb.

Syrus huffed when he walked right into a wall, which had been a stairwell, and turned around with a similar glare the demon wore.

“What? You’re salty that I bested you? Fuck off.”

The demon guffawed when Syrus had slapped a hand over his mouth at his own accusatory sentence. He could see the fear in Syrus' eyes, something that was a large contrast to the cocky look he wore everywhere.

And when a short knife materialized into existence in his hand, the tip of the dagger white-hot, Char regretted not having a camera to capture the exact moment Syrus began to cry.


	4. Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Seer stops a child from harming himself. (minorly. just the kid pushing his eyes into his head with his fists.)

~~~~“I do not look after troubled children, Miss Skalia. It is not my fault that you were unable to stop the urge to get pregnant, and the fact that you were unable to care for the first three.”

Syrus didn’t look up from the children’s book he had been given, but he still listened in on the conversation this..stranger was having with his mother over the phone.

The stranger wore a cream coloured robe with gold cuffs and shiny jewelry. A Seer. His wife looked pretty too, with her black and rose coloured cocktail dress and her golden necklace and ring.

The stranger’s amulet jingled softly with each step he took, pacing a hole in the floor from how long he had been on the phone.

"Miss Skalia, I hope you understand that my wife and I have to tend to our own children. You do not understand how difficult it is to care for temperature-sensitive eggs left in a vat of bubbling mud. However, I can transfer him to my brother-in-law. He's the man who saved your recently deceased husband's organs."

A pause. Syrus waited with bated breath.

"Yes. That man. Doctor Hook."

 _Doctor Hook?_ That man was the one who-

"Yes ma'am. I'll have him delivered to the location shortly."

No! No- Please-

Syrus began to tremble when elegant robes swung around with precision and grace. A hand made of magical fire outstretched towards him and Syrus ran. The plastic book fell to the ground with an empty thud, and the angry hiss of the Seer was faint. 

His heartbeat was erratic, every few beats or so there would be a pause and a flash of pain would overcome him. He pressed a hand over where his heart was, not slowing down during the chase. The maze of a mansion the Seer lived in was vast, and Syrus felt new tears streak down his face when he faced what seemed like the same doorway for the third time.

Two hands scooped him up from the floor, holding him up underneath his underarms. He kicked out, pain and fear clouding logic. He was tucked into the crook of a warm arm and he clenched his eyes shut. His fists pressed into his eyes and it felt like they would pop under the pressure he was putting on them.

The Seer was a disgusting monster!

A ghostly touch swept over his forehead. Syrus fell limp into the Seer's arms.


	5. Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thing describing the crime scene of a horrible underage rape/murder. Talks about the corpse in detail and what happened.
> 
> Read at your own risk. ^^ 
> 
> (Mentioned necrophilia, underage rape, the murder of a minor, crime scene, blood)

The bloody scene was buried underneath colourful leaves.

She was young and small, fragile and innocent. She did not see the dark glint in the man’s eyes as she was led away.

He told her she was special. That she was his best friend from the heavens above. She had to do as he said. That’s what they always did. 

She cried out for her mother, for her older brother, for anyone to save her when the man tore apart her clothes.

Clothes that were ripped apart and buried underneath her decaying body.

Her skin was coloured in dark splotches. Her skin having lost its hue. He had made her a puppet, arranging her final position in her last moments of life. A tiny hand covered her intimate parts, and the other was draped across her flat chest.

Her hair was messy and tangled, twigs and dirt where two small bows and a feather should be.

He had no remorse for her cold corpse, only focusing on how good she felt. Even after death. 

And when a mere runaway had uncovered her body, having tripped over it, everyone heard her screams at the sight of the corpse.  
  



End file.
